Andy Pettitte knew from the outset. Kept it a secret from spring training just in case of a change of heart made him reconsider another go-around in 2014.
But the opposite happened over this long season. The two items he valued utmost — his physical conditioning and the Yankees — were crumbling beyond his tolerance level. So the message was accentuated:
“It feels like my time here is done, my run is over,” Pettitte said.
He backed out of retirement once before, returning in 2012 after not playing in 2011. The finality now, though, feels as close to absolute as possible. Because the “run is over” — and not just for him.
Pettitte will make his last Stadium start Sunday, Mariano Rivera Day, acknowledging the closer’s retirement. Derek Jeter will be an interested bystander as much as anything — his own future murky as questions linger if he can return to anywhere near full strength after a 2013 destroyed by leg maladies.
But with Jeter or without him, the 2014 Yankees are going to be the first year in the rest of the franchise’s life. No Rivera. No Pettitte. Very possibly no Alex Rodriguez, if his suspension is upheld. Maybe no Robinson Cano, if he goes to a high bidder elsewhere as a free agent. And no legacy of George Steinbrenner, if the organization holds to its mandate to cut payroll beneath the $189 luxury tax threshold.
Pettitte, at 41, said that scenario “did play into” his decision. His contemporaries were going or gone. His way of being a Yankee during most of his adult life was vanishing. He was energized to continue after the 2008 season by the Yankees’ investment in CC Sabathia, Mark Teixeira and A.J. Burnett, to be a mentor in their transition and to push everything to the middle of the table to rev for a title.
But he feels his tank is empty with no need to even see if it can re-fill in the offseason. Why? To be part of such an uncertain pinstripe future? The day after tomorrow is upon this franchise, and the Yankees will have to navigate that treacherous route with fewer of their special lieutenants.
Orioles manager Buck Showalter has been saying for several years now that what the Yankees will never be able to replace when players such as Rivera, Jeter and Pettitte are gone is the tenor they established for the club.
We live in an age when analytics have advanced to the point in baseball at which we downplay the importance of environment and leadership and such items. But to be around the Yankees for the last two decades is to know they had more than talent. The main cogs established a seriousness of purpose, an expectation of winning that carried the Yankees through dogs days and dark days; that pushed all around them to be professional and prioritize winning.
Last year, for example, they never seemed to play well for any extended stretch, yet won 95 games and the division. They have spent most of this year outscored and devastated by injuries, yet have maintained a chance of being a wild-card team. It feels as if the last fumes of that way of doing business, a baton pass to something else — something that almost inevitably has to be lesser — is about to be attempted.
Pettitte has imperfection within this special era. He has his ties to human-growth hormone, which blemish his reputation and damage his Hall-of-Fame viability. He left for four years to Houston — three to the Astros, one to his home and retirement.
Nevertheless, Pettitte was vital to the Yankees’ DNA. He had what all of the Core Four possessed — fearlessness of the big moment, accountability and a team-oriented nature. Manager Joe Girardi said, “[Pettitte’s] competitiveness has been good for everyone.”
Pettitte didn’t win every big game he pitched. But he pitched as many as anyone in history and the Yankees were always comfortable with him in those spots because his teammates never doubted what the lefty said about himself: “Whenever I was here, I was all in.”
His work is spilled liberally over five championships. Pettitte will be remembered best for pulling his cap low, holding his glove high and having intense dark eyes peering out. And also for how fanatical he was about staying in shape — his early morning workouts before team workouts in spring training would break younger pitchers. But he could feel his body betraying him more and more, robbing the ability to command the ball properly, especially during a difficult midseason patch.
He rediscovered his form down the stretch, but sees the big picture: “I feel like my time is done. My run is over.”
He speaks for himself, the end coming to a tremendous career. But it also feels like one more symbol that the curtain is coming down on one of the great eras any team in any sport has ever had.